I don't really know her. I like her even less.
I miss the woman who used to fill her place.
The carefree woman who laughed easily.
The confident woman who believed her prayers would overcome.
The fighter who saw hope at every corner.
I miss her.
I really don't know this stranger who peers back at me.
She is weak, worn and tattered...broken. She is a tired woman with worry lines and gray hair and sad eyes. I hardly recognize her.
She is a stranger who struggles with fear, faith, hope, and complacency. She is a woman who lives with one foot in two different worlds, whose life has become a constant battleground.
As much as I miss her, I miss him even more. What I wouldn't give to hold him in my arms again.
